


king knight and rook

by ishiptheships



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: CW: CHILDREN LSKDJFLKS, Eventually transfemme Lorenz in last chapter, F/M, Family Planning, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Misunderstandings, Multi, Mutual Pining, No beta lol, Polyamory, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Post-War, Trans Claude von Riegan, but don't worry the throuple will happen, each chapter is from each of their pov, first chapter is a bit angsty but dw everything is okay, last chapter theyre having babies just a warning, relationship building, starts as established claurenz
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:09:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25924924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishiptheships/pseuds/ishiptheships
Summary: Each time Hilda and Lorenz were wrong. The most important time that Claude was right.War Phase into Post-War Hilclaurenz relationship building.
Relationships: Hilda Valentine Goneril/Claude von Riegan, Lorenz Hellman Gloucester/Claude von Riegan, Lorenz Hellman Gloucester/Hilda Valentine Goneril, Lorenz Hellman Gloucester/Hilda Valentine Goneril/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 1
Kudos: 29





	1. Hilda

Hilda stares blankly out the window and sits on the ledge of her room that was usually reserved for holding her schoolbooks or the occasional tea set. It’s been five years since she had graduated, so the schoolbooks have long been gone, but her old tea set was still by the window. She brought it back with her when she knew the Alliance troops would be setting station back at Garreg Mach. While everything had changed, it was nice to have some familiarity when they were coming back to the place where it had all started.

But now when she looks at her own teapot, she thinks about Mercedes, sweet Mercedes, who gifted her the set and always invited her for tea in her room when she was feeling down. After Gronder, that would _never_ happen. She tried not to remember the blood soaking through Mercedes’s pale yellow and brown dress, the empty stare of her jellybean blue eyes—

Hilda shuttered and tore her eyes from the teapot and looked out the window again. It was dark, but she could see a few of her comrades under the moon and firelight. Leonie, Ignatz, and Raph were in the courtyard next to the dining hall, each a plate in hand. Maybe they were getting drunk—they each had a tankard as well. Good for them. Goddess knows they all could need a little alcohol in their lives. Hilda couldn’t help but take pity on Ignatz though, who definitely had the lowest tolerance out of the three of them.

It seemed so long since her and her many classmates sprawled on the grass of that courtyard after their exams. She remembers some nights, running with fits of giggles, on their way to the cathedral to steal the wine. Sometimes she went with Dorothea and Sylvain, but most of the time she went with Claude.

When she adjusts her sit, her left arm gives out under her weight and she groans through muscle spasms. Her skin down her arm is raised pink with fractals of lightning, tracing the mode in which she was hit with Thoron.

It was so powerful, her bone snapped from her muscle contracting. She remembered getting hastily healed by Marianne before continuing to fight. Amongst the fire blazing around her, a battalion raised their arms towards the white wyvern in the sky and she couldn’t even remember what she did next. Another blow, this time, electricity coursing through her entire body and she fell.

All she remembers is waking up in the infirmary, Marianne feeding her teaspoons of water. Claude was in the corner, still in his bloody war uniform, the bags under his eyes darker than usual.

She couldn’t speak—her mouth was too dry, but she could still hear.

“Her heart stopped.” Marianne said tearfully. “I tried my best, I don’t know if she’s going to—”

“I know, I know, thank you, Marianne.” Claude responded, head heavy in his hands.

Day by day, Hilda got better. She and Claude never spoke about the incident since, but…lately their paths haven’t crossed. Claude was too busy strategizing, having meetings with his various advisors, and with the war escalating, he couldn’t be preoccupied with nursing his friend back to health.

Which was fair. Hilda didn’t mind that. In fact, when she was out and about again, he visited her room with a vase full of anemones (her favorite) and a hug. It was in the middle of the night, the weirdly inconvenient time right after she had settled into bed, but deep down…the worried knot in her heart relaxed. He did care. He was just busy.

The air felt heavy and awkward around them. Lots of things were usually left unsaid between the two, but there were no way Hilda’s actions went unnoticed by her commander.

“You saved my life.” He said quietly. He looked grateful, confused. Confused because her actions where anything but what she had told him before.

Hilda didn’t have the energy to respond. It was as if the world gave out under her and she was falling. She looked down at her bare feet and his black boots. Her hair was a mess.

She nearly flinched when he knelt down and his hand came near to tuck strands of hair behind her ear. “Sit the next one out, Hil.” He said gently to her. “We almost lost you.”

Hilda whipped her gaze to him, her eyes locking with his bottle green. She opened her mouth to argue.

“You just need to get better.” The words were heavy with pretense and motivations that Hilda would never know.

Hilda hadn’t responded. She just sat in her bed, feeling the muscles in her left arm twitch like an itch that just wouldn’t go away.

She missed being by his side at meetings, during his planning sessions, whenever he needed an extra pair of eyes. He valued her observations and her opinions. But it was easy to pretend that she was relieved to have the month off. No one could see through her.

Her month off has been spent watching idly from general meetings, trying not to let her arm bother her too much. In fact, she didn’t say a word. Instead of turning to her for her input after the meetings concluded, Claude turned to Lorenz. Hilda respected Lorenz for his bravery and intellect—he was a far better tactician than she was. And whether Claude turned to him instead of her because she was healing or if she just wasn’t needed…that didn’t matter. Whatever would win the war is what was best.

But even as she would meander by the tea garden to sit in the grass by the cafeteria, she would sometimes see the two meet for afternoon tea. Lorenz seemed like someone who would want have an important discussion over some brew, and she would overhear them discuss politics, war strategies, the boring stuff. They continued to have their meetings, their debates turning into private conversations, apathetic looks turned to soft gazes and smiles. She could have sworn their fingers lingered over each other’s before she decided to mind her own business for once.

Claude’s personal life had nothing to do with her. She was grateful for his new confidant—even closer than she and him ever were. She couldn’t feel bad that he had found someone. The relationship they had was all foolery. Nothing serious.

With a heavy sigh, her lips drag down into a frown. Although the dining hall has plenty of beer, it’s a wine night. She hasn’t felt this sad in ages. And, seeing the usually peppy Hilda so close to crying is not good for morale.

She manages to drag herself off the ledge, her feet padding the wooden floorboards. The heavy weight of her cloak meets her shoulders and she quickly steps into her boots, untied and loose, before sneaking into the hallway.

It takes her a moment once she’s out facing the greenhouse when she realizes that the air that was so heavy with spring-summer humidity has fallen into rain. It drenches the stone pathway, and she hears shrieks of Leonie and the booming laughter of Raphael below the loud splats of fat water droplets on rock. She runs up the stairs until cover of the dorms saves her from getting soaked to the bone. She shivers and waits until the rain lightens to a manageable pitter-patter and makes her way towards the cathedral. 

She walk-jogs mindlessly, letting her feet take her on the path she knows best until she manages to take cover again in the halls of the reception hall. Taking the time to squeeze the water out of her long hair and shake off her cloak, even heavier with rainwater, she freezes when she hears a gentle laugh.

It comes from the north hallway, pointing to the cathedral. Barely breathing and pressed to cold brick wall, she hears it again, followed by a different laughter, more familiar, and she realizes it’s Claude. 

“Look at you…” is followed by more of Claude’s low laughter. “You’re drenched.”

“Claude—” _Is that Lorenz?_ Hilda holds herself. His low voice carries in the brick hallway. “If you had taken my advice and left the lookout when we _should_ , we would not be in this position.”

“The lookout was lovely though, wasn’t it?” There’s a softness to Claude’s tone that she has never heard before.

There’s a pause before Lorenz’s smile is heard in his voice. “It was.”

Another pause that only could be a space for a kiss and Hilda’s heart sinks. Her hand goes to her forehead and she tries to steady her breathing. Panic suddenly comes up in place of her heart and she has to ask herself _why is she feeling this way?_ She’s _happy_ for him. Lorenz is beautiful, tall, empathetic, and so special. Of course, Claude would fall in love with that.

She barely gets herself together before the two round the corner. They’re quick to untangle their intertwined forearms when they see her, and Hilda is quick to notice.

“Hil!” Claude’s voice jumps. Lorenz’s reddening face gives everything away.

Hilda easily puts a smile on her face. “Hey, you two. Out for a stroll?”

Lorenz reaches for her cloak and ignores her inquiry. “What are you doing out here so late? You’re drenched—“

“I’m okay, Lor.” She steps away from his reach. “I was on my way to the cathedral to pray.” Lying is too easy for her.

She can’t help but notice Claude’s eyebrows raise as Lorenz rebuttals. “ _Surely_ the Goddess would not mind if you prayed from your room, it was horrible downpour just a few moments ago. You’ll catch something.”

Claude’s lips tug upwards. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “Since when do you pray?”

Hilda shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe since I died and came back. Marianne was good but part of it’s got to have been the Goddess’s doing right?”

Claude’s face reads as well-hidden skepticism. “Well if you want some company, come find u—me.” Claude fumbles over his words and reaches down to place a comforting hand on her shoulder. She can feel his hand still there as he and Lorenz leave. Worse, she feels his gaze on the back of her head. She walks slowly up to bridge.

She’s not even sure they’re out of earshot when she lowers herself and just decides to sit at the southmost part of the bridge, her head bumping the cold and wet stone. She feels _horrible_ : soaked to the bone, cold, her eyes heavy from exhaustion. And her body _hurts_. It aches from being tossed around through the battles of war, her head throbbing from the amount of times she’s been bashed in the skull.

With shaky legs, she stands and makes her way back to her room. She takes the long way—through the reception hall and through the courtyards. It feels like it takes forever.

***

Hilda rolls her bad shoulder. Her arm feels numb. Her stomach turns circles and she looks up at the high ceiling of Emperor Edelgard’s throne room.

The grey-brown stone she stands on lines every inch of the floor and wall. In front of her fellow soliders, an enormous tapestry frames the throne where Edelgard stands in front of. Hilda gulps feeling very exposed at the front of their army and looks at her peers.

Lorenz is at the frontlines with her on his dark steed. The horse snorts nervously and Lorenz pets her neck idly as he glances behind them. Hilda turns and seemingly miles behind, Claude leans to whisper to his beautiful white wyvern. The wyvern shakes its head, the adornments on its antlers and head clinking on its scales. She sees Claude’s smallest smile before he rides the wyvern on foot, step-by-step to meet his army.

Suddenly, a powerful beat of wings and Claude lands in front of her and Lorenz, his eyes on the Adrestian Emperor on her mountain of stairs. The two lock eyes for a second before Edelgard nods. Claude raises his arm.

Hilda knows she should ready herself. But she can’t tear her eyes away from her leader.

The soldiers yell as Claude’s army advances. Hilda doesn’t remember much after that. She knows her role. Hold the line. Press forward.

And then a shadow files over her and she sees the white wyvern fly straight towards the throne.

Lorenz’s yell can be heard from across the room. “Claude!”

Hilda drags her relic through the soldier in front of her. Lorenz makes a beeline for the mountain of stairs to keep up with the wyvern.

She’s on foot. She’ll never catch up to him.

Lifting her axe over her shoulder, she runs. Her boots sound dull against the stone until she splashes in a pool of blood and an arrow hits her shoulder.

With a cry, her arm spasms and she drops _Freikugal_. A shadow looms over her and she locks eyes with Petra on her wyvern.

“Hilda.” Petra switches to her sword. “You will not pass me.”

Hilda grabs for her axe and with every ounce of strength, grips it in her good arm. She runs towards Petra.

Petra is a formidable enemy. Hilda’s heavy strokes of her axe are easily avoided as Petra jabs and grazes Hilda’s torso. Her blood seeps through her uniform. Hilda brings her axe down on the wyvern’s neck. Blood drips off her leather gloves.

“Petra!” Dorothea is by the base of the staircase to Edelgard. A battalion has her cornered. Lorenz holds his lance over her head.

Hilda sees the glow of a spell leave her fingertips. The last thing she sees is the sky going black.

***

Hilda’s head throbs, and the world spins as she slowly opens her eyes.

She doesn’t know where she is. The light is dim from the setting sunlight seeping through the fabric of the tent. It hurts her head to look at it, so she closes her eyes again before she continues.

With labored breaths, she opens her eyes to look around her. The tent is empty, except for a lone crate next to her cot with a bowl of water and a towel next to it. She turns her gaze towards a figure sitting on a wooden stool at her side. She has to blink several times for her focus to come back, and she sees Claude asleep like a schoolboy napping during class, his head on her cot.

She realizes she’s smiling when she feels his hand on hers. Her strength is gone, and she can’t sit up to see if it is all in her head or if it’s real. Hilda decides to believe it.

It hurts to breathe. She heaves several shallow breaths, whimpering a little at the pain.

Claude’s body jolts up as he rubs his eyes with a groan. Hilda closes her eyes again, but not before she sees the heavy bags under his eyes. She feels him check her pulse at her feverish neck and pause to watch her chest rise and fall. He sighs with relief when he realizes she’s alive. He drops back down into his seat.

She wants to open her eyes and speak with him. Assure him that she’s just fine. Talk with him again. She opens her eyes a crack and parts her dry lips to form his name.

The tent door opens, and Hilda’s sigh is too small to notice. Her heart drops when she hears Lorenz’s voice fill the tent.

“Darling, you need to eat.” His voice is firm. “Have this, it is what was left over from dinner.”

“Thanks, Lor.” Claude sounds ragged and exhausted. The dish is placed on the makeshift table.

“Claude—”

“I’ll eat it later.” Hilda hears how Claude passes his hand over his face and then rubs the hair at his jaw.

Silence passes between the two of them, tension thick like lard. Hilda wishes she could step out of the tent to give the two some privacy for whatever lovers’ argument they’re about to have.

Lorenz breaks the silence. “You need to talk with her.”

Claude sighs heavily.

“She’s our strongest. You know this. She may need to take the next two months to recover from her wounds. She’s barely alive!”

“Do you think I can’t see that?” Claude’s fingers tighten over hers. Her heart hurts; she would never feel his hand on her again when she’s all mended.

“Don’t you see how it’s destroying you every time she is hurt?” She imagines how his hands are crossed against his chest, his gaze steadfast on his lover.

Claude lets out an angry sigh. “If you are saying this is a liability for my leadership to have me be there for my closest friend—”

“I would never. How dare you.” Lorenz’s voice borders on dangerous. Hilda has never heard that before. “But we both know what’s happening and it’s not fair to her if you don’t tell her. Where have you been for her since the Battle of Gronder? Haven’t you seen her the last several months? I have never seen her look so distraught. She’s avoiding you, yet she’s dying for you. Her heart bleeds just as her body does.” Lorenz is loud enough to be heard over camp. “Are you telling me you haven’t seen how she looks at you from afar? You’re hurting her, Claude. You need to talk with her.”

“But you,” Claude begs. “You matter too.”

“Your cherished friend is at her deathbed and you can’t even been truthful with her.” Lorenz snaps, and Hilda thinks she might have imagined a sniffle until Lorenz speaks again with a watery voice that he tries to hide. “Eat your dinner, Claude.”

She feels thin fingers brush a hair from her face and a small press of lips on her temple. The wind sneaks in as the tent flap signals Lorenz’s exit.

Hilda passes out just as she hears Claude pick up his plate.

***

She’s at Gronder Field. Flames from the center of the field lick at her skin but they don’t burn her. It’s strange, but it still causes panic to rise up from her stomach to her chest. Hilda takes a deep breath and her lungs choke on the smoke. Coughing, she watches as the flames race closer and closer to her feet.

_Claude. Where’s Claude._

She spins, heart racing. Looking down at her hands, she realizes she doesn’t have her axe. _Where’s my axe, I could have sworn—_

Hilda looks up, her eyes meeting with Claude riding above her. He looks wrong. His eyes are dark, unfocused. His white wyvern snorts; he digs his heels into her side and they both ascend.

_No—Don’t leave me!_

Flames melt the soles of her boots. She takes another breath and all she gets is smoke. Claude’s flying too high to hear her. She can’t breathe.

_I’ll die here! Cl—_

Hilda wakes up, her chest heaving, taking in gasps of clean air. She immediately cries out the pain of her bruised muscles and cracked bones, her eyes filling with tears.

She hears rustling beside her and hands on her shoulders and arms to settle her back into the cot. She opens her eyes and meets two concerned sets of green and deep purple eyes. She finally leans back down.

“Hilda.” Lorenz’s voice soothes her. “You’re okay, you were dreaming. You’re safe.”

She hiccups and lifts her hand to weakly wipe the cold sweat from her face. She realizes then tears were streaming into her hair.

“You were—” Claude starts.

“You were screaming Claude’s name like murder.” Lorenz touches her forehead gently. His eyebrows knit together over the bridge of his nose, his mouth turned down in the smallest frown. Hilda can’t read the expression on his face. Is it concern or is it well-concealed hate? Does he resent her? “No fever. That’s an improvement. I think I’ll go tell Marianne.”

Lorenz makes a point to cover Hilda back up within her covers up to her chin, tucking the blankets under her arms. When he stands, he gives Claude a pointed look before stepping out of the tent and into the evening.

Closing her eyes, she takes a deep, cleansing breath. It hurts less than before. “How long was I unconscious?”

Claude speaks quietly. “A little over a week. We—” He inhales through his nose. “—We didn’t know if you were going to make it.”

“What happened?”

“Dorothea crashed a damn meteor onto you. You were…you were in pretty bad shape when we pulled you out.”

Hilda swallowed. “And Dorothea?”

Claude fell silent. 

Hilda tried to imagine how she was lifted out of the wreckage. How the blood dripped from her body and what angles her body was contorted to because of the impact. She shivers.

Claude tucks her blanket around her like a child settling into bed, following the pattern in which Lorenz wrapped the blanket around her. The blanket goes up to her cheeks. When he finishes, he stares at his hands. It takes a while for his words to come out. “You can’t die for me.”

Hilda turns towards him.

“You can’t die for anyone. That’s what you said, that’s what you told me—”

“I can do what I want to, Claude.” She almost enjoys the surprise in his face when she speaks with so much certainty and force. “If I die, I d—”

“I need you alive!” He exclaims to his hands. There’s hurt in his voice, and it almost makes Hilda feel horrible. When he looks back at Hilda, there’s so much pain in his eyes, she _does_ feel horrible. “I care about you and our relationship. Can’t you see—"

That strikes a nerve deep within her. “Our relationship?” She uses her anger and sits up, though her muscles tremble and ache. Claude looks like might cower back as she shakes. “I know why you decided to get close to me and why we became friends. I’m not excusing why you did it because what my family does is horrible and I want it to change just as much as you do. But everything was a fucking lie. Our friendship is built on a lie and _you_ know it. _You_ built it.” Breathing hurts. She settles back down onto the mat, staring daggers into Claude.

Claude looks exhausted. “I know. I’m sorry. I regret…many things I did at the Academy. That includes how insincere I was towards you. I had my reasons but being duplicitous wasn’t the way of achieving what I want. I know that now.”

Hilda mutters into the blanket fiber tickling her lips. “I know.”

She’s afraid whatever was left of their friendship is beyond repair. She wishes he would tuck her back in again.

Claude takes the liberty of finding her hand over the covers. He holds it, and she lets him. “But whatever my original intentions were…that doesn’t change how our friendship is now. I hope you know that.”

_Friendship._ Her heart drops. That’s the most she can hope for, but still, disappointment sit deep in her gut. She doesn’t think she can take heartbreak right now. Tears sting her eyes.

“Why are you crying?” Claude says in alarm. Concern floods his eyes in as her tears flow freely again down her face. He reaches out to her. “Hilda—”

She flinches and turns her head away. Claude retreats back to his seat.

Claude sighs. He looks at his hand over hers. “I love you, you know that right?”

A scoff escapes her lips. _You selfish man._ “Is this another one of your schemes to reduce as much bloodshed as possible?” _Because I would rather die than be played a lovesick fool._ Her certainty gives her courage to stare him dead in the eyes.

His hand tightens over hers. “Hilda. I love you as you love me too.”

_Too?_ She blinks back tears. She hopes her hand isn’t trembling and that he can’t feel it. “What about Lorenz?”

“He’s seen how upset…I was. He’s seen how upset you have been. He been more perceptive towards you than I have. I’ve been foolish to ignore you.” Claude shakes his head. “I almost lost you.”

“T-That’s not fair to him, he _deserves_ you. He’s too good _—"_

“Which is why we need to treat him well.” Claude voice is sturdy like his grip on her trembling hand. Looking at him from over the blanket covers, Hilda thinks she understands.

As if on cue, Lorenz peers into the tent. “Have you two had your conversation?” He holds a plate of food in his hand, presumably for Claude. But his eyes are on Hilda.

Claude beams at him. “We’re just about done.”

“Good.” He enters and to Hilda’s surprise, walks to Hilda’s other side instead of Claude. After he hands Claude his food, he finds Hilda’s hand under the covers. His hands are large and warm. “Are you okay?”

Hilda feels his gentle hands that then brush hair from her face. For the first time, even despite her height, she feels small. It’s not a bad feeling.

She nods.


	2. Lorenz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY i'm still writing this i've been dealing with ~anxiety~ and i'm not used to writing happy things so this was a bit difficult to get out LOL
> 
> please enjoy this throuple being completed and ignore any typos or mistakes

Lorenz watches the many nobles and representatives exit the enormous council room as the formalities dissolve into casual chatter. There are a few lingering groups of nobles and merchants, still discussing business as they want to leave the room with no other responsibilities so they can enjoy the rest of the beautiful day until the Roundtable meetings continue the following morning.

But not for Lorenz. With a heavy sigh, he knows when he exits the room, there will be even more business and politics to be dealt with. The long day has loosened some of his front hair from the bun at the nape of his neck. Tucking a stray strand behind his ear, Lorenz finally stands as the last of the Roundtable attendees exit the room. With a loud thud of the heavy doors manned by Alliance guards, he reaches into his coat pocket, knowing these brief moments will be the only time he will get today to read this letter.

The letter arrived through a trusted confidant, specifically hired for correspondence across countries. Despite the mending relationship between Fodlan and Almyra, it is quite dangerous for the letters to fall into the wrong hands. He is thankful to the Ignatz and Raphael, who have used their trading routes for both business and personal correspondence.

He isn’t alone. A small lady wanders from the far corner of the room, having finished a conversation with an Eastern merchant from Almyra. She smacks her pink lips, and Lorenz admires her ability to pick up languages, even if she is horrible at reading and writing in them.

Under her blouse, a peek of lightening scars appears on her left shoulder. Lorenz’s mind flashes to the war, her pink hair matted with her own blood, her wheezing breath. He remembers their leader’s tired roasted pine-colored eyes never leaving her broken body, not even for a full night’s sleep. Lorenz had begged him to sleep, to rest. He even offered to watch her and wake him if she awoke. Of course, he had none of it.

So, Lorenz had stayed up with him. Not only for his sake, but for hers.

Hilda sits in a seat adjacent to Lorenz. She looks up at him, letter in hand. “Stalling work, are you?”

Lorenz smiles and opens the familiar letter written on parchment, its construction unique to the Almyran technique.

_My Love,_

_As my reign draws near, I have been flying all over Almyra to get my business in order. Nader says the capital is ready for my arrival, and I am excited to ascend to power and continue to create bridges between nations. However, I cannot help but feel apprehensive about arriving there. My history in the capital, as you know, is dark to say the least. But be assured I am doing my best to prepare myself to lead._

Lorenz huffs a laugh at the artful not so subtle vagueness in which Khalid writes. He sees Hilda raise her eyebrow at him in curiosity.

_I have heard through our connections that you have taken my previous position well, and as expected, you have risen well beyond my capabilities. I have always admired you for that, and I’m glad Leicester is flourishing under your guidance—_

Hilda is at his side, tiptoeing to peek at the letter. His height keeps the letter just out of her sight. “What does he say?”

Lorenz lifts his arms, so the writing is _just_ out of her view. She grips his arm to pull him down, and Lorenz must put up a fight to not lose to her strength. “Why don’t you ask him for updates?”

“He never writes to me! He only sends me gifts from his travels.”

“He writes just as often to you as he does me, Hilda.” Lorenz reminders her and turns back to the letter.

“They’re never as long—"

 _When you both will visit? I know you are busy and your work is important, but I would love to show my closest confidants_ (What a delicate way to put it, Lorenz muses) _around my home in the grasslands—_

“That’s because he has the impression you dislike letters.” Lorenz raises his eyebrows to Hilda, in which she huffs in frustration. “And that you don’t devote the energy to sit down and read letters that—how do you say it?—‘go on about nothing’.”

“He should know that I dislike letters like that _from my brother_.” Hilda retorts. “I enjoy letters _from him_.”

Hilda was always one to make exceptions. Especially for her dear old Claude. “I will let him know that in my reply, my—” He stops himself from addressing Hilda with adorations. Their relationship was never romantic, and their recent closeness has only been because of their proximity to Claude. That doesn’t stop Lorenz from enjoying her company, even if he knows she doesn’t feel the same love for him as she does for Claude.

As for him? He understands Claude’s adoration and commitment to her.

Hilda presses her cheek to the side of Lorenz’s arm, just above his elbow. Her skin warms his overcoat and his skin under. With a sigh, she resigns, “Can you at least tell me the important things he is saying?”

Lorenz considers her for a moment, and despite him not finishing the letter, he hands her the letter. Eyes wide, she takes it from his fingers, the paper still warm from where he touched it. Her fingertips trace the lines Claude writes and she walks around the large council room in circles as her eyes drag down the parchment.

She gasps and then practically jogs over to him once she is finished. “We should visit him next month! At that time, the Roundtable will be on break for the summer solstice, and we can spend the rest of the summer with Khalid. I’ve _always_ wanted visit his home in the grasslands, he wrote to me about it once, and I love the idea of how simple it is, and how we can all live privately together—”

Hilda goes on, but Lorenz’s thoughts drift. Instead, he thinks about Khalid and how easily he fell in love with Hilda Valentine Goneril. And how he sure he was that Hilda had not felt the same way.

And Lorenz is quite afraid he might do the same.

***

Lorenz wakes with a start as the carriage rattles over the stone streets. With a yawn, he looks next to him, Hilda writing a letter in her messy, looped handwriting. Her hair falls out of the messy braid she hastily created before they took wyverns over the mountains into Almyran territory.

“Did you sleep well?” She says softly, looking up from her letter. Lorenz manages to read, _Dear Holst—_

Lorenz shakes his head. “I only dozed off. I must look a fright.” He brushes the hair from his weary eyes.

“Never.” Hilda says plainly, going back to her letter. Her narrative is long—almost four pages, but it seems that there are political and personal updates to share with her brother. Chewing on her painted pinky nail, she adds a fifth page from a bound journal, thin with torn pages. Hilda was never one to separate her personal and business life.

Lorenz looks out his window, seeing the busy street life of the Almyran capital. Derdriu was never so packed with its residents: citizens sitting on the steps to public buildings to eat their late breakfast as the incense smoke from mosques and temples wafting into their carriage signaling the start of service. Crowds of people enter the grand building, birds flocking on its roof.

All of it is quite beautiful. He wonders what Claude’s life is like here. Whether he has changed since the year he has seen him.

His stomach turns with uncertainty, and he instinctively reaches for Hilda’s hand. When she looks up from her writing, he retreats. He shouldn’t rely on her to assuage him. She’s only his friend; after all, she’s only here to visit Claude, not to comfort him as his partner.

To his surprise, Hilda’s hand holds Lorenz’s firmly. “Is something wrong?” Despite how small her hands are against his, they’re strong.

Lorenz stares at how his fingers wrap around her thumb, how her fingers hold his. He shakes his head. “I don’t think I’m used to this. It’s very different here.”

“I know.” Hilda smiles. “Isn’t it exciting?” 

Lorenz considers that before he turns back to the window. He sees the domed palace rooftops peeking behind the stone buildings in front of them. “It is.”

Hilda takes the liberty to brush her fingers through his straight long locks. “Do you want me to braid it? If you’re so worried about looking a fright.” She has a laugh in her voice.

Lorenz cheeks burn and he turns to her, hoping it seems like his blush is from the bright Almyran sun. “You only have that one ribbon.” He takes her long braid.

Hilda gives him a look before pulling the end of her ribbon and combing her fingers through the braid, from tip to root. Shaking her hair over her shoulder, a waft of sweet perfume washes over the carriage. Her fingers start sectioning Lorenz’s hair.

“Do you want it tighter? Or loose?”

“Loose.” He looks out the window to avoid Hilda’s knowing stare. “Please.” He adds.

They sit in silence until they shortly pull up to great arched columns of the palace, decorated in brightly colored clay reds, lapis blues, and turquoise. The colors bloom against the white stone, laid precisely on top of each other. Once Hilda lays his new braid over his right shoulder, Lorenz exits the carriage and straightens his overcoat, feeling very out of place.

Hilda, however, has a spark in her eyes as they trace across the beautiful curves of the architecture. She sticks out like a sore thumb, her pink hair and attire clashing with the other bright natural colors of the city. She breathes a small _wow_ , before turning to her travel companion. She takes his arm and props it against hers.

“Shall we go?” She gestures to their assistant. Lorenz follows her lead.

They’re escorted across the palace, past the vast halls which walls are covered in intricate tile and tapestry. Lorenz barely has enough energy to take the grandness of the palace in: how brightly colored the mosaic walls and natural stone tile floors are that adorn each room and hallway. Suddenly, the two are whisked to a chamber, where there is one large bed, adorned with lush pillows and thick woven blankets and furs. Lorenz notices how their luggage has already arrived in the room during their tour. He then thinks of the one bed.

“Was there a misunderstanding—”

The door opens and Hilda’s squeals bounce around the stone-walled room and out the balcony as she leaps into the arms of Khalid. He laughs and lifts Hilda with ease (Lorenz notes he was never able to do that before) as he spins with her in his arms. When they finally kiss, Lorenz politely averts his gaze while reminiscing of a time where he had to practically force the two to show any physical affection towards each other. Once barriers and past qualms about ruining friendships were eradicated, the two were broken dams, their affection to one another rushing out, plentiful and infinite.

When Khalid puts Hilda down, he captivates Lorenz as if his gaze were a magnet. Dressed in a plain tunic and lose pants disguise his frame and status, only a sash across his chest signifying his power, Khalid reaches out to take Lorenz’s hands. After kissing his knuckles, his fuller beard tickling Lorenz’s skin, Lorenz leans down to kiss his love.

Every time, it’s like the world stops and spins simultaneously. When they part, Lorenz grips Khalid’s hands to steady himself and looks down at beautiful deep green eyes. He looks lower to Hilda’s bright pink ones.

“Khalid, my, you’ve gotten bigger.” Hilda snakes her arm through Khalid’s, eyes half lidded, feeling his bicep. “You were never able to lift me like that. Not even during the war.”

Khalid chuckles, “Almyrans love their tests of strength through sparing and wrestling. I’ll be honest, it’s not my favorite, but I had to impress a select few within the council. Of course…” He touches her arm. “I could never compare to you though.”

Lorenz rubs his fingers through the beard at Khalid’s chin. “You’ve grown this out more as well.”

He shrugs in response. “Mostly out of laziness, but also because I can.” His grin is just as Lorenz remembers. His kisses are too; how he reaches up to meet Lorenz’s lips again and how they travel to the delicate skin at Lorenz’s neck. Lorenz closes his eyes briefly, a sigh escaping his nose. His hands cling to Khalid’s waist.

Hilda watches them fondly. “Mmm…as cute as you both are, I thought we were getting two rooms?”

Khalid turns before directing his attention to Lorenz again. “It’s just down the hall.”

“Cool.” Hilda gathers her luggage and manages to pick them all up. She blows two kisses for each of them. “Have fun! I’ll see you two in a bit, whenever you’re ready.” She says cheerfully.

As the doors close behind her and Lorenz feels Khalid’s fingers dig into the folds of his shirt into his pants at his waist, all other thoughts of Hilda subside.

***

After several nights in the palace for Khalid to finish his business for the next several months and place Nader as his regent, they pack two wyverns and travel to the grasslands, where Khalid grew up. He rides with Khalid because of his longer experience with wyvern riding; Hilda, having barely passed wyvern riding in school, rides a smaller wyvern with most of the luggage. After two hours of travel, she and her wyvern looked worn.

Khalid had called to her halfway on their trip. “Looks like I got the most important treasure, hm?” He winks to Lorenz who jabs his finger into his ribs in retaliation.

“Ooooh.” Lorenz remembers the pink over Hilda’s nose and cheeks. Her eyes narrowed as she taunted the other wyvern rider. “Better not drop him!”

It took all morning to get to a small home in the middle of the grassland. Only a 10 minute walk west was another home.

“My childhood home. Maman and Baba’s.” Khalid had told him when Lorenz inquired. “Don’t worry, they will give us privacy.” 

Now several days later, they’ve settled into a nice routine. Khalid, though he sleeps in the middle, gets up the earliest. Lorenz, though blearily, notices he lights an incense stick at the window and meditates a bit before heading into the kitchen. He sets out the tea for him and Hilda, while he creates coffee, Almyran style, rich and dark. Lorenz would always take his tea once he freshened up. He would get all his morning kisses and embraces from Khalid, as Hilda finally emerges from the bedroom, looking quite worse for wear. She alternates between Almyran coffee and familiar tea depending on the day, slowly sipping her drink as Khalid makes breakfast for them all.

As the sun sits high in the sky, Lorenz sits on the porch of the wooden house, waving a fan in his face to help the summer breeze cool the sweat as his temple and neck.

“Hey.” Hilda exits the house, two glasses of deep red wine in hand. Her light linen shirt and pink skirt outfit complement the tones in her skin. He recognizes the shirt as Khalid’s. The volume of the oversized shirt tucked into her skirt sits beautifully over her shoulders. She hands Lorenz a glass. 

“Thank you.” Lorenz says gratefully.

Their attention turns to Khalid, bringing the iron axe down on the log, cutting it cleanly. He takes the halves and splits them further to thinner pieces to burn in the stove. Sweat beads at his temple, the afternoon sun making him glow. Despite the summer heat, Khalid refused to take off his linen shirt. The v of the neckline reveals just a peak of his breast. There’s a small glint of the golden locket Hilda made for Khalid their last year of school. Lorenz knows he stores a form of faith magic within it and replenishes it every month.

“Mmm…” Hilda sips her wine. “Don’t you wish he would show off more?” She mutters to Lorenz, who has to crack a smile.

Lorenz shakes his head, resisting the urge to open his fan. “There’s a reason we love him, not Sylvain.”

Hilda throws her head back in laughter, clearly somewhat tipsy after her fourth glass of wine that afternoon. Her laugh travels through the breeze to Khalid.

“What?” He calls.

Hilda giggles and stands, straightening out her summer skirt, long enough to touch the middle of her shins. She hands her wine to Lorenz, and half-runs to Khalid. When she reaches him, her hands linger on the yellow gold oval around his neck, her fingers petting the curve on his breast.

“Need some help? A king shouldn’t chop his own wood you know.” Her pink-lipped smile is jam sweet and makes Lorenz yearn to touch them.

“But his lover should?” Khalid reaches down to kiss her, handing her the axe nonetheless. He walks back up to Lorenz on the porch, taking Hilda’s seat. Lorenz hands him Hilda’s wine, and Khalid drinks it gratefully.

Hilda takes her puffed linen sleeves and rolls them to her elbows. Tying her hair back into the long ponytail she had during the war, she takes a stance, raising the axe high and down onto a particularly thick log.

The ground shakes and Khalid’s white wyvern wakes from its nap in concern. Khalid laughs and turns to Lorenz who gulps. Every few seconds the ground shudders at the impact of Hilda’s axe.

“You’re not making this a very relaxing environment, Hil.” Khalid calls. “Barbarossa woke up!”

“Fine!” Hilda rolls her eyes. She uses minimal effort to bring the axe down on another heavy log, use her boot to hold it down as she yanks the axe out. Holding the shallow cut between her two hands, she splits the log, the two halves flying in opposite directions. Her biceps bulge from under her pale shirt.

Lorenz’s throat goes dry.

“You’re just showing off now!” Khalid’s voice carries in the prairie wind.

Hilda tilts her nose. “I would like to see you try.” Her gaze is mischievous and playful.

After about a half hour of Khalid attempting to split a half log into quarters, Hilda decides that it was about time for him to start supper. As Khalid brings in the supplies to cook, Hilda lingers behind, catching Lorenz’s attention.

“I made you something.” Her smile is coy yet kind.

Before Lorenz can inquire, she opens her palms up to a silver locket with an elegant engraving of a rose. She places it in Lorenz’s slack hand and closes his fingers around it with her own. Looking incredulous, Lorenz stares at her and she shrugs.

“It’s white gold. Khalid told me to make you something to match his, but I know you don’t wear a lot of jewelry. I tried to make it light and comfortable; he says his is too heavy and I have to remake it! But that’s besides the point, if you don’t want to wear—”

Lorenz shakes his head. “It’s lovely. Can you put it on me?”

Hilda beams and drapes the pendant around his neck. She closes the clasp and her hands land on both of his shoulders. They stare off into the horizon, where the baby blue sky meets the sandy color of the dry grass. Lorenz holds back the urge to take her hand in his.

“When did you have the time to make this?” His fingertips warm the metal. He flips the locket over to see her engraved initials—an artist’s signature.

“I’ve held onto it for a bit. Wanted a good time to give it to you.” Her cheek lands on the crown of his head. She inhales slowly. Was she breathing him in?

A moment lasts the whole afternoon. She feels good against him, her fingers rubbing his shoulder in a safe and comforting movement. He tries to reason that she’s just a bit tipsy.

“My dear, let’s not keep Khalid waiting.” He says, peering first at the hand on his shoulder and then her eyes.

Hilda’s cheeks are pink before she laughs gently. Lorenz reasons that the flush is from the dry heat. “Of course.”

***

Lorenz sits on the porch, the sun already set and the moon glows in the black sky. He’s alone, but that is his own choice; Hilda and Khalid were _busy_ to say the least and not knowing the boundaries of their circumstances, he politely excused himself. He wonders if the walls of the home are well insulated enough or if they’re being quiet for his own sanity. It has been almost an hour, according to the moon in the sky and he sits in the cool prairie breeze, soft in his washed silken hair.

His fingers enclose around the smooth silver pendent resting on top of his heart. He uses a long nail to pry the locket open, impressed with the sturdy clasp and craftmanship. He wonders how long it took for Hilda to create her jewelry.

Lost in his thoughts, he barely notices the front door opening, not until he feels a kiss on his temple. He turns to see Khalid, freshly showered, towel at his waist. Unsurprisingly, his necklace still rests on his chest hair.

“It’s cold! Come inside.” Khalid exclaims, shivering.

“You’re barely wearing anything, that’s why.” Lorenz stands, his silk robe swishing around his ankles. “Did you two have a good time?” He leans in to kiss Khalid’s cheek.

“Of course.” Khalid accepts it before his eyes meet the locket right in front of him. He holds it in his fingers. “Where did you get this?”

“Hilda. She gave me it today. She said you requested that I get a matching one to yours.” Lorenz smiles gently. “It’s kind of her.”

Khalid frowns. His drying hair mask his handsome features, making him young again. A droplet of water hangs from a curly strand. “I don’t remember telling her that.”

Lorenz gives him an odd look. “Why would she say that then?”

He laughs at the bewildered expression on Lorenz’s face. “Don’t let it bother you! It’s how she expresses that she cares.” He holds Lorenz by the shoulders and rubs his upper arms with his hands in an attempt to fight the night chill. It’s a comforting gesture, and Lorenz allows himself to sink into Khalid’s arms, holding his torso, cold from the moisture on his skin.

“I wonder why she made this for me.” Lorenz says gently.

“She thinks of you. She was relieved you liked her necklace.” Khalid’s hands travel down to his waist. “I even had to ask her for mine. She must really care about you if she thought to make you something.”

Lorenz thinks about that a moment.

“Come.” Khalid takes his hand a leads him inside. Their bare footsteps pad gently on the wood floors. Khalid eventually tosses the towel aside with a playful laugh. Smirking, Lorenz follows him into the bedroom.

Hilda lounges under the furs of their bed, picking at her long nails. When she notices the two of them she smiles and lifts the furs up for Khalid to crawl into. He does so, almost diving down next to her, cradling her under her arms. She giggles leaning in to kiss between his eyebrows and on the bridge of his strong nose.

Lorenz tries not to feel like he’s invading an intimate moment. He slowly discards the robe, cold as his skin hits the cool air.

As he pads slowly to the bed, he sees Khalid already comfortably asleep against Hilda’s shoulder. It took so long for him to learn how to sleep through the night, without his weapons. Before he can slip under the covers and tuck himself in, Hilda reaches over and lifts the covers. She offers a small smile. Lorenz’s heart swells as he gets into bed. As he leans over to kiss the still-damp curls on the crown of Khalid’s head, he leans further to press his lips to Hilda’s cheek. Her free hand reaches to the side of his face as he does so. He thinks about her smile and sleep comes over him.

***

After several days of travel, he sits on his bed in Goneril territory, pressing his perfume at his temples and pulse at his neck. He finally feels freshly washed and decent enough after riding wyvern-back and in a cramped carriage across the prairie and mountainside back to Fodlan. After a rather eventful dinner with Holst Goneril and the patriarch of the Goneril family, Hilda gladly gave him a spare room within the Goneril estate before he begrudgingly travels back to Gloucester territory. The thought of seeing his father and his prying questions of where he has been for the past month of so was nothing to look forward to.

About to tuck himself into the plush sheets of the four poster bed, he hears a soft knock on the door.

“It’s me.” Hilda’s voice muffles against the heavy wooden door. The door creaks lowly like a frog as she peers inside. “Can I come in?”

“Of course.” Lorenz stands from his bedside. “How can I help you?”

“I’m just saying good night.” Hilda closes the door behind her, and she stays near the doorframe as if to give him space. “I hope my family wasn’t too obnoxious for you—”

“It was entertaining.” Lorenz smiles. “To say the least.”

“I’ll see you off tomorrow. Do you plan to leave after breakfast?”

“Actually—” Lorenz bites his lip. “This might be audacious for me to suggest—”

“—Never—”

“May I stay until the Roundtable in two weeks? I know I would have overstayed my welcome, but travel to Gloucester after traveling so far and then back to Derdriu would be—”

“Of course. You are always welcome here. Stay as long as you like!” Hilda exclaims. “You have done so much for me, and my father seemed to enjoy your company, I mean who would have thought…”

Lorenz breathes a sigh of relief. It must read on his face, even in the dim moonlight, because Hilda walks up to him.

“Is it your father?” Hilda’s voice suddenly steels and Lorenz winces.

“Partly. Mostly.” He admits, shrugging. “I don’t look forward to whatever questions he may ask about where I have been, and I don’t enjoy his company anymore.”

“Do you need anything from Gloucester estate? We can get it for you, or provide you with anything—"

“I’ve prepared myself well enough with this trip to see Khalid, I should get along well enough.” Lorenz watches her hop onto the side of the bed next to him. “But I will tell you if I’m in need of anything.” He looks down at her, her skin like cream in the moonlight. “I cannot thank you enough.”

“I’m just happy you feel safe enough to stay here.” Hilda frowns. After a bit of comfortable silence, she speaks softly. “I thought you resented me.”

Lorenz turns to her in alarm. “Why? I would never—”

“I felt like I was stealing Khalid from you. You two were so good for each other and happy, I didn’t want to ruin that.” Hilda speaks gently. “He confided in you when I wasn’t there for him. I was never there for him the way you were.”

“That’s not true. You support him in other ways. You supported him through your actions.” Lorenz’s eyes travel to the lightening scar travelling across her chest and shoulder. “He never forgets how much you gave him.”

Hilda wordlessly wraps the fabric of her robe over her chest. Biting her lip, she looks away.

“I didn’t think you thought very highly of me either.” Lorenz laughs gently. “Especially in school.”

Hilda’s discomfort quickly melts as she waves her hand. “That was in school. And you were too easy to make fun of.”

A small chuckle escapes his chest. “Understandably. And…” He places his hand on his chest to press the locket against his heart. “That has obviously changed.”

“Your neck is too beautiful to _not_ wear one of my pieces.” Hilda notes pointedly. “And you look very nice with it on.”

“I could never hate you, Hilda.” His heart feels like it’s about to burst. “Especially when Khalid loves you so."

Hilda shakes her head. “You always left though.” When Lorenz raises his eyebrows, Hilda continues. “You know, gave us privacy. You had such an odd look every time he and I hung out or got intimate, I thought you were jealous or just tolerating me. So I started doing the same.”

“I thought I was being polite. You two had so much to catch up on. You barely even embraced the first few months.”

Hilda laughs. “I guess I can’t read you like anyone else, huh. Khalid is so easy to read. Maybe because we think so similarly, but _you…_ ”

“Wh-what about me?” Lorenz feels heat rise to his cheeks and Hilda laughs louder.

“Nothing. You’re so thoughtful, Lorenz.” Hilda stands from the bedside and after brushing her robe smooth, she walks to the door. “Have a good night.”

Panic fills Lorenz’s chest and he stands suddenly. Her fingers brush the open door frame. “Wait.” Lorenz blurts out before he can stop himself.

When she turns to him, eyes wide, she’s truly the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. She stares at him for what seems minutes before he can talk again. “If you would like…you can stay…with me?” He cringes at his lack of elegance.

Hilda’s lips form the smallest smile before she reaches and closes the door behind her. She walks to him and takes his hands.

“Are you asking me what I think you’re asking?” She sounds amused.

“I’m asking for your heart.” Lorenz begs. “I want to give you mine in return. Of course, if you don’t—“

“Oh Lorenz.” Hilda sighs. She reaches up to touch his face. Her fingertips are warm and Lorenz leans into her palm. “I’ll give you anything you want. Everything.”

“May I…kiss you?”

Hilda looks a bit surprised. “Hold on.” She hops back onto the bed, giving herself a bit more height, and reaches for him. “Okay. Come here.”

Her kisses feel different than Khalid’s: softer lips, yet more eager. She brings him closer, her hands at his waist. When they part, he realizes his hands are on either side of her face, caressing her hair. She looks at him, starry eyed and full of wonder. When he drops his hands, she also lets go of him, respecting the pace he has set their exploration.

“Shall we sleep?” She offers, as she stands, removing her robe, revealing a thin nightgown and slipping under the covers.

Lorenz nods, feeling windblown and breathless. He moves to the other side of the bed where he finds her lifting the covers for him before she shifts closer.

“Is this okay?” She tucks her head into his shoulder, arm wrapping around his waist over his stomach.

“Yes.” He senses her hesitation and carefulness, and kisses her head to ease her. He looks down to see her closed eyes, eyelashes like petals on water, flickering with her thoughts.

Half a moment passes. “So, who’s going to tell Khalid about us?” She muses, a small laugh in her tone.

Lorenz laughs in return. “He would love to hear it from you.”

“I’ll write to him in the morning.” Hilda says cheerfully.

Closing his eyes, Lorenz smiles, pulling her closer to him. “I’m sure he would be thrilled.”


End file.
